Soldier's Heart

A WORLD AWAY

The battle appeared to rage on forever, both on land and at sea, but Emily found the silence between letters the most oppressive.

She sat at her small desk in the corner of her cramped room, staring at the partially written letter in front of her. The words seemed insufficient, as if no combination of them could ever adequately convey what she wanted to say to James. She tapped her pen against the edge of the paper, the small scratching sound shattering the silence in the room.

The late afternoon sun cast deep shadows across the roadway, but Emily hardly noticed. She was far away, buried in thoughts about James and the perils he faced. She lived in the nurse's quarters, which felt overly small and overly constraining. It seemed strange to imagine that just a few kilometers away, the world was still busy, with people going about their everyday lives as if the war had not gripped the world.She groaned and set her pen down, running her fingers through her auburn hair, which was already mussed from the day's work. The hospital had been busier than normal. Every day, new casualties arrived, serving as a sad reminder of the battles just across the Channel. Every time she cleansed a wound or held the hand of a dying soldier, she worried if James was experiencing the same atrocities.

Has his unit arrived safely? Was he already in the trenches, fighting for his life, or was he still waiting to be deployed into battle?

Her insides were hollowed out by the uncertainty that tormented her. James had written a brief letter shortly before he boarded the ship that would transport him to France. Despite his hasty handwriting and shaky lines, his words—"I'll come back to you"—were what stuck with her.

Emily tried to force the worry out of her head by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She needed to trust him. Despite their apparent fragility, she had to hold onto those words. The alternative was simply intolerable.

The blood and fear their fathers, brothers, and uncles were experiencing on the sea.

However, she did.

In the hospital wards, she had witnessed it firsthand. The disfigured corpses and the blank expressions of the injured soldiers who had witnessed too much. They all lost something they would never get back, whether it was their minds or their limbs. Even here, far from the front lines, there was no way out of the war.

Emily watched the boys play, her breath fogging the window as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Not for the first time, she wished she could get away with them, even if only briefly. However, reality was unforgiving.

Another soldier would arrive at the hospital, another letter would need to be written, and another day would pass while they waited for news that never arrived fast enough.

The weight of it all made her heart hurt. Although she had always known James was courageous and had a stronger sense of duty than most people, the thought of him dying every day and being only a bullet or shell away from being listed on a telegram was too much for her to handle. She couldn't bear to look at the carefree boys any longer, so she turned away from the window. The weight on her shoulders seemed to be mocked by their innocence.

She crossed the room and sat down at the desk, her gaze returning to the incomplete letter. The words on the paper blurred slightly as tears welled up, but she quickly blinked them away. She couldn't cry right now. If James could be strong in the midst of the storm, she needed to be strong here.

She picked up the pen again and forced herself to write.

My dearest James

, she continued, her hand gliding slowly across the paper; I pray this letter finds you safe. The hospital has been busy, but no matter how many patients I visit, my thoughts return to you. I miss you greatly, but I am comforted by the notion that we shall be together again soon.

She paused, chewing her lip as she looked for the appropriate words. What could she say to make him feel closer to her? What could she write to give him strength when he felt cold, exhausted, or afraid?

She continued, her hand steady.

I know you're going through things I can't imagine, but please know that I'm always thinking about you. Every day, I look forward to hearing the mail cart come through the door, hoping to discover a letter from you. Your latest one brought me much comfort, James. I carry your words with me every day.

She looked down at her lap, the sensation of his touch still fresh in her thoughts. She could almost feel his arms around her again, hugging her as they parted ways at the station. She could see the determination in his eyes, the quiet firmness that had always made her feel secure.

I keep thinking about the day we said goodbye and how much I wanted to hold you and never let go. But I know you are where you should be. And I know you'll get back to me.

She stopped writing as her breath caught in her throat. She had to believe his claims, that he would return. But the truth was that the conflict had no regard for pledges or affection. It seized what it wanted, and no one—even the brave—was safe from its clutches.

Emily stared at the letter for a long time, feeling a familiar knot of worry form in her chest. What if this was the final letter she ever sent him? What if the next letter she got was not from James, but from an unidentified authority informing her of his death?

She shook her head and pushed the thought aside. She couldn't think that way. She would not.

She completed the letter with a flourish, her hand flowing quicker, as if the act of writing could somehow counteract her anxiety. Please write as soon as you can. I miss you more than words can express, and I love you with all my heart. Stay safe, James. Get back to me.

With shaky hands, she gently folded the note and slipped it into the envelope. As she sealed it, she felt a sliver of optimism, as fleeting as a light in the wind. The letter was her connection to him, a means of reaching over the wide, terrible gap that separated them.

She stood and walked to the door, eager to get the letter in the mail before the night ended. As she stepped outdoors into the cool evening air, she looked up at the darkening sky, quietly praying that James was looking at the same stars.